Life Without You
by Penelope Applegate
Summary: "I have never blamed you..." / "I have," he cut her off again. "Every day." His heavy eyes met hers once more. "Since I left." / *spoilers ;)


**Just watched this movie from the first time recently, and WOW it blindsided me, and I loved it. I'd heard tell that it was different from what many people expected, and I have to say that I was very pleasantly surprised. I would not advise reading this if you haven't watched it; there's tons of spoilers! If you have not seen it, you should! (Especially if you're a fan of any of my other obsessions - I'm a bit of a sci-fi geek, it's true.)**

* * *

She stood silently for a moment, her body rigid and unflinching. Almost unconsciously, she suddenly reached out to touch a small, pale hand - a frighteningly cold hand. Her fingers withdrew automatically. The fact that she had known - the fact that she expected this - did nothing to quell the ache that had been steadily building in her chest for over a decade. The very second she watched Hannah draw her last breath, the ache had become a sort of implosion, somehow contained within the seemingly fragile structure of her weakened being. All that was left was a smoldering crater that could never be filled.

She heard his slow, deliberate footsteps before she felt his presence at her side. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. He was first to break the silence.

"She looks beautiful," he said.

Louise had to agree. There was color in Hannah's cheeks that had been missing for far too long. The wig was a very nearly a perfect imitation of their daughter's soft, wavy, brown locks. Louise could almost smell the strawberry shampoo Hannah loved so much. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair one last time but couldn't bring herself to do so. She wanted to remember what Hannah's hair actually felt like. She didn't want to remember waves of polyester or nylon.

"Yes," was all she said, though she wanted to say so much more.

Another uncomfortable pause ensued. She wanted to tell him so much. She wished she could explain what he had never given her a chance to express.

"You knew," he whispered. "You knew all along."

She ran a finger down the sleeves of Hannah's favorite red shirt. "Yes," she said again. _I knew it all along_ , she wanted to say. _I knew what it would cost. I knew I would lose you._ She wanted to tell him, _It was worth it._ She _was worth it. You were worth it._ She wanted him to know, _I would do it all again._ How could she not allow this beautiful, precious being to come into existence? How could she not allow herself to fall and to be loved by this man - this amazing, snarky, infuriating, perfectly imperfect man? What would her life be without them - _who_ would she be? She had known this hurt - she had felt this hurt - and she had welcomed it. She had welcomed all of the beauty and love that would come with it.

How could she explain? He had pushed her away. He couldn't handle it. He resented her for what she had done to him. She had known this would come, too. She didn't blame him at all, couldn't be angry with him. He'd called her selfish. Maybe he was right. Hannah's short existence was filled with more suffering than some endure in a lifetime. It ended invariably in her death. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop it. Anyone... except Louise. He had told her that she made the wrong choice. She loved him, she would always love him, but she knew he was wrong.

She would never regret Hannah.

"Louise."

His voice were soft, gentle. She couldn't remember the last time he'd taken such a tone with her. She was afraid to look up into his eyes, but she did. They were red, rimmed with tears, full of sadness, but missing that unmistakable despair she had come to expect. There was no longer anything to fear. Hannah was gone.

"Ian," she said softly.

"I..."

"Mr. and Mrs. Donnelly, it is time," the funeral director interrupted them delicately.

Louise brought a hand to her mouth, turning back to the still form that was once her unstoppable little girl. She'd already said goodbye a thousand times. She couldn't quite understand why this felt so... _final_. She touched Hannah's hand one last time, leaned foward, and pressed a quick kiss to a cold, hard cheek. "Goodbye," she whispered. "Hannah."

She turned and took a few steps away, allowing Ian time and space to say his own goodbyes. She thought she heard a sob before he sniffed loudly and cleared his throat, but she didn't dare turn around. "Okay," he said loudly, though she felt it was meant more for himself than for anyone else in the room. "Okay."

The ride to the cemetery felt infinite. Neither spoke, sitting at opposite sides of the darkened limo. Louise had found herself wishing that it would rain, as it usually did in movies during funerals, but no such relief came. The sun was bright, excruciatingly so, and not a cloud was found in the sky. The world felt entirely too cheerful. It shouldn't be, without Hannah.

The viewing and funeral had been held in a funeral home, not a church, because Louise wasn't sure what she believed in anymore. There was no pastor or priest present at the burial site. The funeral director said a few words that were probably meant to be reassuring but did not touch the void in Louise's chest which was presently threatening to consume her whole.

The wake passed by in a blur. It was held in a small banquet hall at a local restaurant. Louise couldn't handle the thought of all those people in her own home. Comforting hands kept reaching out to touch her, and it took all she had not to draw back or lash out. They meant well. They wanted to console her. No one understood how badly she wanted to be alone.

No one except Ian.

She saw him speaking with her mother across the room, and when his eyes locked on her own, he headed straight towards her. She wanted to look away but couldn't break away from his gaze. She was afraid of what he might say when he came closer, but all he said was, "I'll get your coat."

* * *

She lay her coat on the table and dropped her keys next to it, kicking off her shoes and leaving them there as well. Generally, she was a fairly neat person, and she knew such sloppy laziness drove Ian crazy, but she didn't care tonight. She went straight for the wine cabinet and poured herself a glass.

She took a sip and turned towards her ex-husband, who was still standing by the door looking hopelessly lost.

"Thank you for the ride home," she said, though her words sounded flat to her own ears. He nodded, casting his eyes down to the floor, but he didn't move. "Would you like a glass?" she pressed. He shrugged half-heartedly. She took that as a yes.

She poured him a glass while he removed his coat and hung both of theirs on the coat rack. He met her halfway, accepting the glass with a nod of thanks. He sipped the wine and grunted his appreciation. "My favorite," he mumbled.

"I know," she replied. _I keep it on hand in case you change your mind._ Once more, she did not say what she felt, instead moving away from him and towards the back deck. The sky was darkening as that mercilessly sun made its descent. She welcomed its disappearance on this emotionally dismal day.

"I remember when I told her this story," he said, breaking her from her thoughts.

She turned to see him standing in front of Hannah's drawing of her parents with the caged bird. Her heart hurt at the memory of those innocent, doe eyes staring up at her as she explained that mommy and daddy talked to animals.

"Ian..."

"She was fascinated with the story of how we fell in love."

"We don't have to-"

"She asked over and over again." He looked up at her with a resigned expression. "I can't tell you how much it hurt when she stopped asking."

She could barely breathe. That ache was back, and it was steadily growing. "Stop," she protested weakly.

"She stopped believing in it. In us."

Louise didn't think her heart could break any further, but she felt the cracks running like spiderwebs through the broken pieces. "Didn't you?" was her weak answer, falling out like a feeble gasp.

"Louise."

" _Ian!_ "

"I'm _sorry._ " His words rang through the room like a gunshot, effectively silencing her. He hung his head, gripping his wine glass. "I shouldn't have left you."

There was a weighty silence while she carefully considered her answer. "I have never blamed you..."

"I have," he cut her off again. "Every day." His heavy eyes met hers once more. "Since I left."

She let out a long, slow breath. They stood watching one another quietly for a long time. Then she chugged the rest of her wine, pulling the empty glass from her lips with a satisfied, "Ah!" She looked him up and down and told him, "I need another glass of wine. How about you?" She could have sworn she heard a chuckle from his as she headed back for the wine cabinet.

* * *

"...and then she told the cashier that I hadn't fed her in two weeks!"

She reveled in the sound of his laughter echoing through the house once again and found herself laughing with him. "It's amazing that child protective services didn't end up at our house on multiple occasions," she mused, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Even when she was three, Hannah's antics could cause quite a stir."

He suddenly became very quiet, and even through her wine-induced haze of giddiness, the seriousness in his eyes unnerved her. With a start, she realized that he was a lot closer to her on the couch than he had been just a few minutes before.

"What?" she breathed.

He didn't answer - at least, not verbally. And then his mouth was on hers and - oh! - she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and was caught so off guard she didn't even close her eyes. When their lips parted, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed and his breathing heavy.

"Ian," she whispered.

"Don't," he said gruffly. "I've missed you, Lou."

"I'm sorry," she apologized quietly. "I should have told you."

"I don't wanna talk about it." His hair tickled her forehead as he shook his head ever so slightly. The way he pressed his lips to hers again with undeniable urgency proved his point. She found she didn't want to talk, either.

* * *

She woke to sunlight in her eyes and a throbbing in her head. Instinctively, she reached out to the other side of the bed but found nothing, though nothing was all she'd been finding for years now. For some reason, the lonely ache in her chest that had faded long ago returned with a vengeance upon this discovery.

She struggled to remember the events of the prior evening. She remembered the taste of her husband - her _ex_ -husband - and how it felt to realize he could still send shivers down her spine. She remembered the way he kissed her neck all the way up to her ear, nibbling on her lobe until her nails dug into his shoulder. He hadn't forgotten what she liked. He was still willing to use that against her. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

But it had led nowhere. She'd started crying after only a few minutes, and after holding her, he carefully wiped the tears from her cheeks and guided her to their - _her_ \- bedroom, where he lay down with her and held her until she fell asleep.

And then... he left.

And once again, she woke alone.

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and sighed heavily. If she concentrated hard enough, she could pretend that it had all been a dream. A painful, delicious, heartbreaking dream.

At the very least, she'd had the forethought to change into something more comfortable before they got settled on the couch. Waking up in the dress she'd worn to the funeral would have been more than she thought she wanted to handle. As it was, she could hardly handle the thought of Ian's hands on her again. Something between fear and longing raced through her veins like icy cold lightning at the mere memory of his touch.

It was after her third cup of coffee that she heard the knocking at the door. She considered ignoring the intruder; she wanted nothing more than to be left alone today. The knocking became more and more insistent, until couldn't ignore it any longer.

Of course, it was Ian.

She knew she must look stupid, standing there blankly in the same clothes she was wearing last night, squinting up at him completely incapable of forming any sort of intelligible sentence.

"Good morning," he said simply.

"Um. Hi." She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, though she wasn't sure what she feared most.

"Can I come in?" he asked, gesturing with his right hand.

She nodded numbly. "Yes. Yes, of course. Come in."

He stepped just inside, and she closed the door behind him. "Do you want coffee? I made a pot." She walked towards the kitchen, needing something to do - any kind of distraction from the man standing in her house, reminding her with his mere presence of how far things had gone last night.

"No. I didn't come for coffee."

"Okay." She, instead, poured herself her fourth cup of coffee.

"Lou... we need to talk."

"We don't have to, really, there's nothing left to say." She refused to meet his gaze, focusing on the blue mug in her hands.

"I have a lot to say."

"Well, then, maybe I just don't want to hear it," she snapped a bit more harshly than intended.

"I know you felt something last night-"

"Of course, Ian, I've always been physically attracted to you," she said dismissively. "That doesn't prove anything."

"What are you so afraid of, Louise?" he demanded. "What did the future tell you? What horrific thing is going to happen next?"

The frustration in his tone drew her attention. His eyes asked questions she didn't want to answer. "I... I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

She tried to avoid his gaze but just couldn't do it. "I mean... I don't know. I haven't... I've never..." He was only growing more confused with each words she uttered. After everything she'd put him through, it almost hurt to admit the truth. "I never saw anything after... after Hannah. I do not _know_ what is going to happen."

He was quiet for a long time, staring down at the floor. She felt the compulsion to fill the silence but knew it wouldn't help. "Why?" he finally asked.

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't... Maybe..." She sighed. "I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of what life without you and Hannah would look like."

His head snapped up to stare her down, his eyes burning with something unrecognizable. "So this... you didn't know what would happen last night?"

She scoffed. "Of course not."

"And the wine was..."

"Ian, we buried our _child_ yesterday. I thought you could use a drink."

"If you knew something I didn't, would you tell me?"

She shook her head and raised her palms. "I have nothing left to hide."

He paused, considering her words. "I don't know why I kissed you last night." His eyes were suddenly weighed down with the sadness she'd seen at the funeral yesterday. "I meant what I said. Louise... I have missed you so much." She didn't say anything, sensing there was more he needed to get out. "I couldn't... That little girl... She meant everything to me. I couldn't handle the thought..."

"I know," Louise said quietly, staring down at her hands. "Me too."

"But you had a choice - you had time to prepare yourself-"

"Did I, Ian?" she interrupted him roughly, her voice cracking despite herself. "Did you see me yesterday? Were you there when she died? I was _alone_." She came around the counter and charged towards him.

"I asked if you wanted a baby, and you said _yes_ , Louise, even though you knew _exactly_ how it would end," he shot back hotly, his voice ricing to match hers.

"I couldn't bear the thought of losing her, but I couldn't bear the thought of never meeting her, either!"

"But you were just fine with losing me." His angry words came out as more of a statement than a question.

"Ian, I was _never_ fine with losing you!" Her voice finally broke, and she choked on a sob. "I never wanted to lose you."

The air was thick with unresolved tension and hostility. They stood silently for a time, each catching their breath and gathering their thoughts.

"Lou," he said at last, "I didn't come here to argue."

"What did you come here for, then?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I was hoping you would tell me, I guess."

She laughed humorlessly. "Yeah."

"This isn't easy for me, either."

She took a deep breath and ran her hands over the top of her head. "I know. I'm sorry." She exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry."

"Can I... Can I just hold you?"

She stared up at him wordlessly, going through all possible scenarios in her mind but not once even trying to peer into their future. At some point, she had learned to control the ability, and she had shut herself off from seeing past the loss of Hannah. It was true. She was afraid of a life without either of them in it.

"Yes," she told him. "Please."

* * *

 **This could be a one-shot. Could be a two-shot. Or three-shot. Or Idk-shot.**

 **But as soon as I watched the movie, it stuck with me. It's true, there's nothing in the movie about what happens after Hannah dies. Even the books and the lecture could have been before Hannah's death. So who's to say what happens to the two of them? Just my thoughts. O_o**


End file.
